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Mello slammed the door shut as he stormed out of room 12m. There weren't actually 12 rooms in in the house and there certainly wasn't space for any lettered rooms, but Matt and Mello had named their room that after the day that Mello had arrived at Wammy's house. 12 was the number of chocolate bars that Matt could eat that night before he threw them all back up.

That always did make Mello chuckle. But that was about 6 years ago.

"Mello! You're a tot-" He paused as he heard, or rather didn't hear, the loud sound of Mello's combat boots making contact with the ground. He tried to breathe as quietly as humanly possible in fear that Mello might return.

Matt was both scared and sat, frozen, still on his bed for about 26, 27, 28 seconds until he heard the sound of Mello's heels once again on the ground.

Clunk, clonk, clunk, clonk.

He fell down on his bed with a sigh of relief once he hear the sound of Mello's metal-plated boots becoming quieter and quieter. And the scars on his back know better than anyone that those boots are most certainly metal plated.

But the worst pain Matt had ever felt was the way that Mello could never look at him as he shouted all those obscene things.

His words pierced through Matt's heart like a dart being thrown full power in to a dart board. His words hurt more than the incessant physical damage that Mello had ever caused him and when he said all those words, he couldn't even look him in the eye. 'Why?' Thought Matt. 'What have I done to deserve this?' he questioned himself.

All he could was do go over what had happened that night. Matt hadn't thought he'd been much bother to Mello and since Mello hadn't been out at all today, he wasn't sure what made Mello so angry all of a sudden.

Matt's thoughts:
I was just sat there playing on my PSP. I wasn't really caring much for what was happening in the world around me… perhaps that had annoyed Mello? But Mello hadn't tried to speak to me today… not much. When he did I totally acknowledged him. I always had. But what did I do? What did I do that was so bad for him to say that?

When Mello had finally got up at 3pm in the afternoon, Matt knew there was something wrong with Mello but for once he was completely unable to analyse exactly what it was that was bothering him.

I couldn't even figure out why he was acting so strangely… No matter how many times I go over everything in my head, Mello was being odd and that was the only conclusion I could reach.

Mello took a shower, came out very shortly, got dressed and lead on his bed. He went over to his draw and pulled out a chocolate bar and sat on his bed. He just sat there staring at Matt.

The strange thing was, he had a chocolate bar in hand and he wasn't eating it…

Matt could feel the intensity of Mello's stare on him and decided to pause his game.

After all, I didn't want to make him angry.

And out of nowhere he began shouting at me.

"You complete and utter ~" Roaring with anger " You're a good for nothing waste of space, Matt" turning the other way he began yelling " You just sit there all day long playing computer games not giving a crap about all the people you're ruining" On and on the insults flew from Mello, it lasted a good hour before he threw his chocolate

still uneaten, which was a big deal

on the floor, throwing the nearest thing he could find at Matt. "At least bloody say something you insolent p~" Storming across the room he grabbed Matt's PSP from his hands, which had been paused for some time now, and used it to smash him around the head. He chucked it on the floor and grabbed Matt by his, what he described as 'annoyingly stripy', t-shirt and pulled him up from the bed.

Again? That's all I could think and he continued to throw punches, kicks, the occasional item in our bedroom would come flying at me. But still, I didn't understand what had started this.

"You know what Matt, you're nothing" He said walking away from Matt on the floor covered head to toe in his blood. And Mello walked over to the door opening it slowly and uttering a faint 3 words, three words that he didn't even think would have such an effect on his dear friend. "I hate you." and with that, he was gone.

"WHAT?!" Matt roared angrily, punching the wall beside him as hard as he could. As his strong, yet almost delicate, knuckles made a connection with the wall, he cried out. "Why?" He cried, resting his head against the sickly, crimson coloured wall.

'Crimson: the colour of love', he thought, 'that's what Mello told me'. But the longer Matt sat staring at the crimson red wall through his half empty tear-filled eyes, the more he was filled with the same anger once again. An anger that should have been aimed towards Mello which Matt always ended up directing towards himself.

He could never treat Mello so badly.

As he sat there, all he could think about was the earlier scene that had caused him his current heartache. All he could think about was Mello. What Mello did. What Mello said. Mello, Mello, Mello. The way his hair sat beautifully just above his shoulder, curved perfectly around his cheeks. His cheeks that are almost as soft as the blonde locks that rested upon them. Mello looked so wonderful, graceful even. Even when he made Matt feel so worthless about himself, he just looked at him in awe. He had always admired Mello from the moment he met him. He had a certain way about him that made Matt feel happy in his presence. Matt could never understand exactly what it was that made him drawn to him so much, but he was. He believed Mello to be the greatest man alive. Even as children he admired him. They always fought and although Mello never won, Matt loved the way he always persevered. He never gave up. But as they grew older, his resilience became a problem. He would get in to fights all the time and he always got hurt badly. It got to a point where Matt started to let him win because he couldn't deal with Mello being so unhappy. He didn't mind damaging his own pride to see the proud smile on Mello's face the first time he beat him. But it turned to a different kind of beating as they got older, almost uncontrollable on Mello's part and although Matt was still perfectly physically capable of stopping Mello, he was never able to let himself hurt this man. He couldn't help but let him treat him like he did. Matt loved the attention, he was happy that Mello seemed better afterwards. But recently Mello had started saying hurtful things. Things that insinuated that he wasn't just having fun or relieving himself anymore. Things that made Matt think he wanted to hurt him. But still, he couldn't help but think of Mello so positively. No matter what Mello did, Matt continued to feel like Mello was still a kind person. To Matt, Mello was perfect.

He thought more and more about the way Mello treated him. The names he called him, the looks he shot him when he even so much as breathed wrongly; the feel of Mello's fists smashing in to him and his heels making contact with his skin. His face, his back, his stomach. The way Mello always lashed out him when something bad happened. It was something he couldn't get out of his mind but Matt never minded that he was being hurt like that, if anything it brought him contentment. He knew that by being Mello's punch bag, he was still something to him. He wasn't bothered by what it was… he just liked that fact that he still existed to Mello.

And once again Matt felt alone. He began searching, barely being able to see with the pain causing tears to leak from his eyes. Matt searched for the only things that he experienced happiness from on nights like this one: his packet of usual cigarettes and a half broken, blood-stained razor blade.